A Dreadful Hope
by TheQuirkyFedora
Summary: An adaptation of A Christmas Carol where Snape is visited by his long dead friend and three Spirits who help him make a very important decision.
1. Stave One

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything in the world of Harry Potter.

Regulus was dead, to begin it. And so was she.

These unchecked sores festered especially harshly around the holidays for reasons Severus Snape did not like to dwell on. Instead, during this time of year, he usually was at the office desk in his home with a book in his hands, occasionally brushing stringy black hair out of his eyes with such annoyance it was a wonder he had not yet chopped it all off. Other times, he graded papers.

Snape was not what one would call "happy" to be a teacher, but he took some enjoyment out of it nonetheless. This was particularly apparent to him when grading the abhorrent results of a rather difficult assignment.

Around eleven o'clock on the night of December 24th, Snape could be found writing nasty comments on Neville Longbottom's scribbled essay. The assignment had many components, one of which was to change the specifications of a Sleeping Draught to make one sleep for five hours instead of the standard eight. It was not an exceptionally difficult question. Snape had even considered leaving it out of the requirements that year, but he found too much joy in the increasing number tardies of students who had misjudged their potion's potency when testing it out.

According to the answer given his on paper, poor Neville never found the right solution. The correct answer was to double the heating time of the potion, but he wrote that one Valerian sprig should be added and one measure of flobberworm mucus redacted which would actually result in not a five, but a twelve-hour sleep. This, Snape then realized, explained what he had heard several Ravenclaws giggling in the hall over before holiday break began.

Apparently one day the week before, Neville ran without a wand on his person into Transfiguration with ten minutes until the end of class and a bright red Remembrall falling out of his hands. He reportedly turned pink in the ears right before Minerva McGonagall turned them into the ears of a house elf, demonstrating that day's lesson of transforming body parts. After that, Neville's ears were the color of his Remembrall and remained so until class ended and McGonagall performed the counter spell to return them back to normal. Though, they still looked rather larger than average to Snape whose sneer almost looked like a smile when he realized all this discomfort was linked back to him.

After he was through with that essay, Snape snatched the next off the top of the stack and his almost-smile vanished when he saw the name written in the upper right corner of the parchment: Harry Potter. He dipped his quill in the small pot of red ink and wrote a large perfunctory D for Dreadful on the page. No doubt Potter would live up to it. As Snape started to read the introductory paragraph that appeared to have less Potter and more Granger than it should, he heard three knocks on his front door and stood, grumbling, to greet whoever it was with the audacity to impose upon a man in his own home at this hour. If it was a group of late night carolers, Snape thought, he just might hex them.

Snape needn't have been so bothered, though, because at the door was Albus Dumbledore and Snape, who had never found it unpleasant to be in his presence, opened the door a little wider. Before Snape was able to greet his guest, Albus said, "Though I do feel remorse about this, Severus, we must skip the pleasantries. I am going to assume you've asked me inside and asked me if I would enjoy a cup of tea, to which the answer is yes, I would, only, not chamomile. We have much to discuss."

Snape replied, "Of course," in a slightly awkward and put upon manner as Dumbledore pushed past him and sat down in his favorite plush chair.

"What brings you here, Professor, in such a hurry to skip pleasantries?" Snape asked while filling the kettle.

"First, I must tell you what has happened tonight before I ask anything else of you," Dumbledore said. When Snape looked over from where he was rummaging through his tea cabinet, he saw Dumbledore with his legs crossed, staring at his own steepled fingers with glazed eyes. Snape sometimes saw Dumbledore with that same look in his eyes after he had been peering into the Pensieve. He often wondered what Dumbledore saw in that contraption of his and had almost asked once before he thought better of it. Snape had enough secrets of his own.

"Tonight, Harry Potter came into my office."

Snape did a routine shudder at his name. He had hoped this would not involve the boy.

"He was quite distressed. He said he had a dream that a snake attacked Arthur Weasley," Dumbledore was still staring at his hands.

"And he came to you? Just like him, too. He can't even have a bad dream without telling the Headmaster."

"Now is not the time for your prejudice, Severus," Dumbledore said. Snape hardly thought whatever prejudice he harbored was unwarranted, but he kept quiet all the same.

"Harry claimed that the dream was not just a dream. He said it had actually happened," Dumbledore finally looked at Snape for the first time since he had entered the house and seemed to wait for Snape to make a snide remark, which Snape might have, had he not seen the grave look on his visitor's face.

"He was right, Severus. Arthur was found covered in blood with two puncture wounds in his side. He is at St. Mungo's now and Harry Potter and the rest of the Weasleys in my charge were taken to Grimmauld Place by portkey. I left to Hogsmeade and Apparated here as soon as these events transpired."

It was Snape's turn to avoid Dumbledore's eyes as he turned to take the whistling silver kettle off the stove. "Perhaps the boy is showing promise in Divination, sir. It's about time he showed a proclivity toward _something _academic."

He desperately hoped his voice did not portray just how nervous he was. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach that had nothing to do with the overly sweet odor coming from the mug in front of him.

He despised raspberry tea, but once when he imposed upon Dumbledore in quite a similar way, the older man had made some for them both because it was the only flavor he had at the time. Snape had lied and said it was his favorite in order to be polite, but had almost immediately regretted that decision because the next month, Dumbledore made a trip to India to meet with the Minister for Magic there and had come back with a gift of ten boxes of raspberry tea for Snape.

"That is not what this is about, Severus, and you know it," Dumbledore's voice had lost some of its patience and his eyes bored into Snape's as he took the cup from his hands.

"I don't understand, Professor. Voldemort is a skilled Legilimens, but I do not see a way he could have invaded Potter's dreams in such a vivid manner. It is outside of the practice's abilities," Snape said, taking a seat on the rarely used sofa. He did not like it; the cushions were too soft.

Dumbledore once again looked away. "He must have found a way. As you said, he is a skilled Legilimens."

"But, Professor," Snape rebutted, "The magic involved simply does not work like that. There must be some other explanation."

Dumbledore was looking anywhere but Snape. "Maybe so, Severus. But, he needs to be trained to protect himself from these dangers. If Voldemort has some kind of direct access to his mind, it could prove disastrous for him–and our whole cause."

Snape had a history of being roped by none other than Albus Dumbledore into involvement with certain tasks he would rather remain separate from. He was not an unintelligent man and could see the time for the question approaching in the conversation. Before he allowed it to be asked, though, he let out a perfunctory "no."

"You're not thinking clearly about this, Severus. I beg of you. This could be the difference between life and death for this boy–for the whole Order."

"No, you're not thinking clearly, Professor, if that is your arguing point. I do not care for the boy and I care little for the Order. And you most certainly are not thinking clearly if you believe for one second I will let that mongrel anywhere near my mind." Snape stood up and began walking to his front door and Dumbledore followed. "If you care so much, you should teach him yourself."

"You know I can't, Severus. He would become an even bigger target for the Ministry. And you are much more skilled at Legilimens than I am."

"Thank you for coming by, Professor, but I'm going to have to request you leave now." Snape opened his door and stepped out of Dumbledore's path, tried to avoid meeting his eyes.

"Is this somehow still about Lily? Because he wouldn't be able to find out. You know Lily would–," Dumbledore tried once again, but Snape did not let him finish and gestured with his arm one more time for Dumbledore to leave, which he did, albeit reluctantly.

Snape did not return to his study and Harry Potter's essay, but instead tossed the rest of his raspberry tea down the sink drain, dressed into his favorite nightgown and went to his bathroom to begin flossing.

He was halfway through his bottom teeth when there came the shadow of a mocking voice from behind him. One look revealed something Snape never wanted to see. Not here, not now. Definitely not like this, after he once again proved his cowardice.

There in his bathroom, standing–or was it floating–on the edge of the bathtub was Regulus Black. Or, more accurately, rather the echo of what was once Snape's old friend and confidant.

"Is this somehow about Lily?" Regulus repeated in the same mocking tone. "I swear, Dumbledore's lost his touch. When is it _not_ something about Lily with you?"

"You–you're not here. You can't be here." Snape was having trouble accepting the new reality existing in his bathroom. "It does not work like this. None of it works like this. You were dead. You stayed dead. You did not become a ghost. I would know. I would _know_."

"You're right, I'm not a ghost. You're right, you would know if I was," Regulus said. "Wow, Severus, two in a row. What next?" He appeared to have taken a sitting position and crossed his legs in midair.

"How did you get here?" Snape's voice was still rather shaky, but he had regained enough composure to again begin flossing, which he would not do if his guest was not in ethereal form. He hoped the simple task would make this whole situation seem a little less outlandish.

"An order from Upstairs can go a long way. But that's the wrong question."

"I live in a townhouse. There's no one upstairs but myself. And very well, why are you here?" The last question was spoken around a few fingers and some string as Snape had finally reached his back molars.

"Not exactly the upstairs I meant. And that," he pointed in Snape's general direction, "is the right question. You just had the opportunity to add some sort of meaning to your life and, well, you blew it."

Snape rolled his eyes and sneered again, though that could have just been because he was now flossing his incisors. "How would helping that boy bring meaning to anything?"

Regulus stared at him. "You know that question is stupid. Supposedly the whole reason you didn't off yourself earlier was to protect him, Lily's child."

"James' child."

"_Lily's_ child. Even I've heard how similar the two are." At this, Snape rolled his eyes again. "The point is, you're letting your feelings get in the way of that boy's safety and if Lily were here, she'd slap you. I'd slap you too if I could, but I can't so I'm going to settle for verbally abusing you, _Snivellus_."

Snape let out a shudder of a breath, then turned once again to the mirror, his back now to Regulus. "You never called me that in life. Don't start now."

"Don't deserve it now. Listen, that kid is never going to get good enough at this to access your memories. You don't have to worry about him knowing how _noble_ you are and all that, if that's what you're worried about."

Snape did not say anything. He was done with his flossing now and instead stared at the rusted drain of the sink. After a few seconds of this, he shook his head. "I won't. I can't. For what Potter lacks in intelligence, he makes up for with dumb luck. I would not be able to stand being in his presence any longer if he knew the truth."

Regulus straightened up and said, "I was hoping I didn't have to do this."

In the next moment, the room became immersed in darkness, the only light a sickly green glow emitting from Regulus. His voice swelled to a roar that did not sound like his own. His arms raised and the air swirled again and again in a circle around the two men, whipping Snape's greasy hair in all directions. "YOU SHALL BE VISITED BY THREE SPIRITS. THE FIRST, WHEN THE CLOCK STRIKES ONE." A single strike of a gong thundered through the room, driving Snape to his knees with his hands clasped over his ears and his eyes shut tight. Regulus simply grew louder. "THE SECOND, WHEN THE CLOCK STRIKES TWO." At this, all the faucets spurted out what Snape could only hope was water and wind howled against the room's single window. "THE THIRD AND FINAL SPIRIT, WHEN THE CLOCK STRIKES THREE."

The faucets stopped and the wind halted. The room was immersed in silence and as Snape opened his eyes, the lightbulb above the mirror flickered on once again. He peered up at his old friend who wore a look of such resignation, Snape wondered why he had tried to convince him at all.

Then in his normal voice, Regulus said, "This may be your last chance, my friend," and vanished.

Snape went to bed soon after and as he set his head down on his pillow he wished, for not the first time in his life, that he was not a wizard. For if he had been a muggle, he could have believed it was just a dream.


	2. Stave Two

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything in its world.**

Snape awoke when the clock stroke one.

In that first moment of grumbles and mutters, he forgot what was to greet him in that hour and was quite shocked by the abundance of light emitting from his bedside. He reached to turn off the lamp when his hand encountered such a chill he yanked it back and muttered a curse, which was followed by a high-pitched giggle. He scrambled out from under the covers and to the other side of the room, facing what appeared to be white light gathered to form something that looked like a child.

Snape was, of course, well aware of ghosts and how they appeared, but this one was different from any he had previously seen. Something about it was off. It looked less dead than it should. Snape felt this being was completely other, that it was not and never had been human. It was less of a ghost and more of a Spirit. Yes, a Spirit, that was it.

"Are you," he cleared his throat then for it was foggy with sleep and fright. "Are you the Spirit Regulus warned me about? The first, that is."

"Yes, I am," answered the child's voice.

Snape thought for a moment. He was debating whether to ask the Spirit to have a seat or to attempt to throw it out when suddenly his hand was once again engulfed in icy air and he was quickly guided to the window and out, out, out into the night.

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past," said the child, who was now dragging Snape up higher and higher into the sky.

Snape, who never even felt comfortable on a broom much less dangling from a hand he couldn't even know was there by touch, elected not to continue the conversation as the two glided over his neighborhood. Once again, he desperately wished he could believe this was a dream.

Eventually, the Spirit tired of his silence and started a conversation all on her ...his..._its_ own, of which Snape only heard about half as his ragged breathing and the wind combined to be rather loud in his ears.

The Spirit was in the midst of discussing what might have been divine intervention, a concept which Snape cared very little about, when he finally got the sense to ask, "Where are we going?"

"Oh," the Spirit said, as if the idea of telling Snape this little fact had not occurred to it. "We're going to that wizarding school. Uh, what's its name? Pig–no, tortoise? No, um."

"Hogwarts," Snape interjected.

"Oh, yes, that's it. I will be with you to see three moments from your past. After that, my time with you is done. I hope you begin to talk more along the way, but people generally don't. I was hoping you would be different since you're a wizard. Ah! There it is."

Snape wondered many things in that moment. He wondered if there was any purpose to this journey. He wondered if it would hurt him terribly to relive these moments once again. He wondered if he tried to let go of the Spirit would he wake up in his bed.

"Perhaps, but I don't think so," said the Spirit, and Snape looked sharply to it, sure he had not said that last thought aloud. "I can hear you," it said. "Not word for word, and not in any language, but I can understand anyway."

Snape was quite appalled by this, as no one, not even Voldemort had heard his thoughts in almost two decades. He was going to inquire about this when he was interrupted with a giggle.

"No, you were right before. I'm not human and I never was, so your powers do not work on me. I do wish it was different, though. I think I would like to be surprised by the words that come out of people's mouths for once." Its head tilted to the right for a moment until it became straight once again as Hogwarts grew closer. "I twisted the rules a bit so you could relive this moment. It's not on Christmas, but a couple of days before. I thought it was rather important. Please, don't mention it to any of the other Spirits, though."

It did not brighten as they approached the castle. He and the Spirit touched down on a wooden dock and Snape could hardly think for how dizzy the trip had made him. As he entered from one side of the boathouse, Lily Evans entered from the other and quickened her pace to meet a boy who stood in the corner, so cloaked in black it was a wonder she could see him at all. It was not uncommon for Severus and Lily to meet in the boathouse after curfew. They never made plans beforehand, but some nights when Severus would feel like the world was against him and nothing would ever be right, he would make his way down to the boathouse. He never told Lily he was going, but she would always either be there waiting for him or show up soon after he arrived, out of breath and already asking him what was wrong. On nights like these, they would play cards by the light of a jar of blue fire or just sit on the dock with their toes skimming the water.

The moon was the only source of light, slanting silver rays through the ceiling cracks and pooling in with the tide. At night, that was all there was. Severus' silver cheeks, black hair and eyes. Until Lily arrived. No matter how hard the night tried to paint her in its eerie palette, her bright green eyes and red hair could not be touched. And it only ended in making her shine more to Severus, so obviously _other_ in his world of dark and light.

On this particular night, the two best friends sat cross legged facing each other, both looking at the letter in Severus's hands they had both read earlier in the day.

"I can't go home. I just can't," Severus said. He sounded off and Snape could not tell if it was because his third year voice was changing or because he was about to cry.

"You don't have to. I forgot to tell you, my parents sent me an owl today, too. They are going on vacation to Australia! And they won't be back until long after I would need to return to Hogwarts. I'm staying right here, Severus. I'm staying right here with you." Her head was tilted downwards but her eyes looked straight at his and did not blink or look away even after his eyes brimmed with tears and overflowed.

Snape once again felt the chilly hand of the Spirit in his. "No, please just one more minute, Spirit. One more minute."

"That was the year your mother died. You didn't want to go spend Christmas with your father. Why is that?" the Spirit asked, turning its head to look at Snape, who took a moment to think over his answer.

"My father was a cruel man. Mum shielded me from him when she could. I didn't want to go back to him after she died. Honestly, I didn't know if I would survive it."

The Spirit turned away from the dock and as Snape took one final look at the scene, he realized something he had not been aware of the first time he lived that moment. Lily and Severus had gone straight to the library from the Great Hall after the mail arrived. She would have had no time to open, let alone read, a letter from her parents before meeting him. Lily had lied. She stayed with him that Christmas so he would not be alone. There was suddenly something pressing just behind his eyes and as he and the Spirit once more took off, the chill of the night could not touch him.

The warm feeling did not last long, though, because soon after the Spirit lifted off the dock, it plunged straight down into the cold water of the lake, dragging Snape along with it. For one brief moment, Snape forgot all about Regulus and the three Spirits and only knew that he was being pulled deeper and deeper into icy water and could not breathe and his chest was constricting and he _needed_ to breathe and he was pulling back from the hand bringing him down and fighting and kicking and–

Then it was all over as they had drifted straight through the glass of the Slytherin common room and Snape was deposited on the tile floor, perfectly dry and warm.

"Well, that wasn't very nice," the Spirit said, apparently hurt its ethereal form had been kicked.

"_That_ wasn't very nice."

"This moment took place two years after the last," the Spirit whispered as two boys entered the room.

"Why are you whispering?" Snape asked in an equally low voice. "They did not hear us last time."

The Spirit did not look at him as it answered. "I thought it was appropriate."

And then Snape understood. This was the first Christmas he and Lily were no longer friends. In this scene, Severus sat with his back to the roaring green fire, rolling an unlit cigarette between his fingers.

"I don't think this is going to work," Severus said, lifting his eyes to look at his companion who was lounging in one of the green velvet armchairs.

"God, Severus, if you don't want to, don't." Regulus around his cigarette. "I'm just saying it would help you relax. Make you less...you, for a while."

Severus thought about it for a moment, then reached out a hand to catch the lighter. It glowed a bright orange and looked like it did not belong in the room of dark green. He brought the lit cigarette to his lips and tried to mimic Regulus as he breathed in, the preceeded to cough for the next five minutes.

"Don't be so dramatic," Regulus said. "It's not that bad." Severus recovered for enough time to take a second try, this time with only a few seconds of repercussion. "See, you're getting better already. You can even keep the lighter; I have more."

"Thanks," Severus said after a few moments had passed. "I think it might actually be helping."

There was another moment until Regulus said anything. "Merry Christmas, Severus."

"Merry Christmas, Regulus."

The Spirit once again took Snape's hand and said, "You miss him, don't you?"

Snape hesitated, then said, "Yes, I do. Besides Lily, he was the only one I ever considered a friend."

"Why didn't you go with him when he went against Voldemort?" the Spirit asked.

Snape could not think of a good lie, so he told the truth. "When I was a Death Eater, it was like I was sleepwalking. I would go through the motions. I would do what I was told to do and I did not think of the consequences. I just wanted to be a part of something and when Regulus came to me, I told him I would not side with him because I could see that it wouldn't work. Because I didn't think it was worth it to try."

The Spirit waited until Snape said he would like to go.

The next few minutes took the two through the castle, up to Dumbledore's office. No password was required for entrance and they reached the door at the same time as Severus, who appeared to be in his very early twenties.

"Ah, Severus!" said Dumbledore in a booming voice. The room was awash in scarlet and silver. Tapestries with reindeer patterns connected the long windows and the past headmasters wore Santa hats and and their finest Christmas attire for the occasion.

Dumbledore came around his desk to greet Severus with a firm clap on the shoulders. "I'm so glad you could make it."

Severus did not respond at first and just stared down awkwardly at the man in front of him. "Er, thank you. For inviting me."

Dumbledore turned away for one moment to grab a rectangular package, wrapped in red with a single silver bow, and handed it to Severus. "It's not much, but I thought it would help you next year."

It took Severus a moment to realize Dumbledore meant for him to open it right then. Inside the packaging was his old sixth year potions textbook filled with his own notes and corrections. "Property of the Half-Blood Prince," it said inside.

"I took the liberty of flipping through a few pages," Dumbledore said. "I knew you were talented in Potions, but I had no idea you surpassed the text." And when Severus still had not said anything, he added, "I thought you could use this to teach your classes next year."

"Thank you, Professor," Severus said and suddenly felt very foolish. "I am sorry I didn't get you anything."

Dumbledore once again clapped him on the shoulder, let out a little laugh and said, "Think nothing of it, Severus. You've already done me a great service. Professor Slughorn was to retire at the end of this year and I was well behind on the task of finding his replacement."

The two exited the office and, according to Snape's memory, proceeded down to the Great Hall where he was first met with many skeptical eyes, but as the evening progressed the eyes became gentler and laughs of merriment filled the air.

Snape, standing at the edge of this office he knew so well with the Spirit, was suddenly struck with how well Dumbledore disguised his deeds. He had given Snape the greatest gift: a purpose, and had pretended as though Snape was the saint.

"I think you're wrong," came the quiet voice beside him. Snape turned his head to look at the Spirit.

"Wrong about what?" he asked.

"You said your only friends were Lily and Regulus. That is not true at all." The Spirit shook its head. "No, not if what we just saw was real. Dumbledore is your friend, Severus. Do not forget that."

And in that moment as the red and silver faded to black, Snape thought that maybe, just maybe, the Spirit was right.

**Author's****Note**: Thank you so much for reading! There will be five chapters in all and I will post one every other day. I call the chapters "Staves" because that is how Dickens referred to them in _A Christmas Carol_.


	3. Stave Three

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the world of Harry Potter.**

Snape woke quickly this time as the clock stroke two. He lifted his head and opened his eyes in the dark, expecting to see the next Spirit by its own emitted light, but was greeted only with the black shadows of his room. He reached to turn on the lamp and and blinked several times in the brightness. Each time he blinked, the figure before him became clearer and clearer.

It was much larger than the last Spirit and had to stoop its head to stand in the room. He was dressed in a red velvet cloak just a few shades darker than his ginger hair. His cheeks were pink in color and he took up a good third of the room.

Snape was so startled by the differences in this new Spirit the only thing he could think to ask was, "Why don't you glow, too?"

"Ha!" said the second Spirit. "That's hardly a way to greet polite company. Now, why don't you go and fix us some tea before we start our trip."

Snape, who was particularly relieved he could wait awhile before setting out once more into the night, said, "So, you can drink. I hardly think the other one could take a seat much less drink any tea."

The Spirit took a moment to let out a laugh far greater than the remark had warranted and said, "Well, we're not all alike you know. That's kind of the point. Now, are you going to fix some tea or not? I prefer raspberry but anything will really do. Except Earl Grey, can't stand that."

The two made their way downstairs and Snape found himself wishing he had not thrown the rest of the raspberry tea he'd made down the drain. As Snape prepared the tea, the great man took a seat on the same plush chair where Dumbledore had sat earlier in the night. Except while Dumbledore had looked quite light upon the chair, the latter occupant's sides almost seemed to overflow past the arms and the top of the chair barely reached the middle of his back.

"Now look at me," the Spirit said. "Waking a man up, sitting in his chair and waiting for his tea without even introducing myself. I am the Spirit of Christmas Present." He said this last bit quite proudly and looked expectantly toward Snape, as if he should recognize the name and admire it.

Snape, who was a long way past irritated with people invading his home, said, "And what precisely does that mean?"

The Spirit's face fell, just a little, but he resumed his broad smile soon after when he said, "Well it means I am to show you the wonders of the holiday!" And when that did not render the response he wished for, he stood up and splayed his long arms straight up in the air like a child who had just won a prize. "The wonders of life!"

"Oh, lovely," Snape said in what he hoped was an appropriately excited voice. He was too busy training his eyes on the ceiling and searching for any marks the Spirit's fists may have left upon it to try and sound adequately thrilled. If he squinted, he thought he could see two small dents in the plaster, but he those could have easily been faint shadows. He hoped. "So what is on the agenda for this hour?"

He prayed it did not involve swimming in lakes.

"We have a slightly more lax schedule than Christmas Past. They always have so many places to go. Far more moments in the Past than the Present, though. I guess that is the beauty of it. In the Present you can focus more on the details, really drink it all in, you know?" At this, he took a sip from the mug Snape handed him. It was the largest in Snape's collection and still looked miniature in the giant's meaty hand.

"Well, um. I guess we had better get going then. Wouldn't you agree? To drink it all in, of course," Snape said.

The Spirit pointed and revered him with squinty eyes. "How right of you, m'boy!" Then he opened his arms and brought Snape into the most bone crushing hug–Snape suddenly longed for the first Spirit and its cold clasp of the hand–as the house around them disappeared to make way for a new one, a grayer one save for the red decorations and the scarlet sweaters.

Snape did not have to ask where they were, but the Spirit told him anyway. "Number Twelve Grimmauld Place," he boomed and made a sweeping gesture with his right arm.

There were many people gathered there in the kitchen waiting for Mrs. Weasley to give instructions. "Fred, I want you peel the potatoes. George, I want you to mash the potatoes. Fred, peel. George, mash. Say it with me now."

"Fred, peel. George, mash," both said in unison.

"Now," Mrs. Weasley said after giving them a pointed look, "there are not many ways you can mess that job up, so I trust you won't try and discover them.

Next," she turned to Ron, "I need you to make the green bean casserole. It is one of the easiest dishes that has ever been thought up and the recipe is on page 457 in this book." At this, she held up _Cooking with Canaimas_ by Gilderoy Lockhart and said, "He may be a git, but the recipes are solid.

Hermione, would you be a dear and cook the macaroni and cheese _and_ the cranberry sauce? Oh thanks, I knew you would," she said before Hermione actually answered. "And Ginny, I'm going to need you on cake duty. Just something nice and simple. Maybe the three tiered chocolate ice cream cake on page 215," she said, sliding _Cooking with Canaimas_ across the table too her. "Just a suggestion, though. And while you're all doing that, I'll be making the Christmas turkey. Alright, off you go!"

"Wait one second, Mum. What's Harry and Sirius going to cook?" Ron asked.

Mrs. Weasley whirled on him. "Ronald Weasley, we are guests in Sirius' house. We are intruding on his Christmas. He does not have to cook now and he will never have to cook again on my watch. As for Harry, he just saved your father's life so the same goes for him."

As the Weasleys went to work, Harry went to sit beside Sirius at the long table. The two high-fived in their seats then lifted their legs up onto the table and started talking about things like Quidditch that Snape could not be bothered to listen to. In that moment, it looked like nothing had changed. It was back to Hogwarts with James and Sirius, and Snape felt the urge to drop his head and scurry along down a hallway out of their sight.

He was still dwelling on this when he heard a disgruntled comment from Ron Weasley to his brother Fred. "This bloody book is so complicated. I feel like I'm back in Potions except with no Snape spit on my face."

"_P_lenty of _p_oints from Gryffindor, _P_otter!" Fred said, taking care to actually spit on Ron's face as he said it.

At this, Snape turned to the second Spirit and said, "Alright, I think I get the point. Can we go now?"

"No, no just hold on a second. I want to see what happens next."

Rolling his eyes, Snape once again faced the scene. Only this time, Sirius was a part of the conversation as well.

"He did that when we were in school with him, too, you know," he said from his perch at the head of the table. "Used to drive me and James bonkers."

"It's more than that, though," Harry said, surprisingly quiet from his own seat. "He's just plain mean. You should see what he says to Neville sometimes. Poor kid's finally found something he likes to do and ever since then Snape is just making Potions that much worse for him. It's like, 'No, you may not have one ounce of joy while taking my class.'"

"It's bloody ridiculous," Ron agreed.

Just then, a rather loud shriek came from the sink as Hermione just poured the macaroni into drain and had accidentally scalded herself with boiling water. All in the room went to stand by her as she ran her hand under the cool tap. "I'm fine. I'm fine, really," she kept saying.

"I can help you if you want," Harry offered to Snape's surprise. "I can make the cranberry sauce."

Hermione smiled gratefully at him.

"I suppose I can help someone, too," Sirius said. "I'm already standing and all."

Ron called dibs before Ginny could even raise her hand and all set off to work once more.

Before Snape knew it, two great arms were around him and the old house faded away and was replaced by the closed doors of the Great Hall.

"Now, what did we learn from that moment?" the Spirit asked in the way a primary school teacher would say, "I want you to think about what you've done."

"That apparently I spit when giving lectures," growled Snape, refusing to give into the Spirit's wishes.

"You were so much more pleasant back at your house," was his only remark.

The two walked through the broad doors into the Great Hall. There was snow falling from the ceiling today and the tree was dressed in reds and golds. As they got closer to the table that sat both students and professors on Christmas, Snape saw Dumbledore stand and tap the rim of his cup with a spoon.

"I shall request quiet for the next moment as I bore you all with the quite meaningless ramblings of a much too old man. This day is a day for giving, but also for graciously receiving all that life has to offer. What a simple treasure it is for us all to eat and drink and be merry together. I encourage each and every one of you to not think about what has happened or what will happen and instead to be focused on this moment and this moment alone. For who knows when we may have another like it again. Now, I must give you the greatest gift I have to offer: my silence. Enjoy your food." He clapped his hands together and plates of roasted turkeys and hams, bread pudding and treacle tarts appeared, and chatter once again resumed.

All seemed quite untroubled save for Minerva McGonagall whose worried expression sparked inquiry from the Headmaster. "Whatever's the matter, Minerva?"

She hesitated for a moment before looking at Dumbledore. "I just wish Severus were here. It's been what, five years since he last came to Christmas dinner? I even bought him a nice new set of quills for the occasion, but I guess I will just give them to him when he returns for school."

Dumbledore patted her hand, "It is kind for you to wish Severus happiness. I, too, have thought about him much today, but there is nothing we can do right now except to wish him a happy Christmas wherever he is."

The Spirit tugged on Snape's sleeve. "I am sorry to leave this moment," he said before the scene went away once again and was replaced with Snape's empty office.

Snape looked around, curious as to who would be in his office on Christmas day, and found no one. "Who are we here to see?" he asked, turning back to the Spirit. The Spirit did not have to answer, though, for Snape saw the reason they were there.

Two children with dirty black hair and beady eyes peered at Snape from the Spirit's open robe. They looked feral and for the first time since flying with the Spirit of Christmas Past, he felt fear.

"These," the Spirit said with a tinge of remorse in his voice, "are the representations of ignorance," the boy growled, "and greed," then the girl.

The room was now lit with a sickly green emitting from every crevice between the exposed bricks on the wall. The jars of ingredients on his shelves fell and shattered, spilling horklump juice and eel eyes onto the wooden floor. The room quaked beneath their feet and Snape struggled to hold onto his desk. He wanted to turn his back to the children, still hiding behind the Spirit's cloak, but found he could not stop looking at the malevolent creatures no matter how hard he tried.

The Spirit changed from its remorseful tone, to the same all powerful, all consuming voice Regulus had used earlier in the night. Only, this time, much lower. And the words sinked into Snape all the more because of it. "If you are not careful, if you do not tread lightly upon the path, these two will become the end of you. And worse, the ends of those around you."

The Spirit opened his robe further and the two children ran out. Before Snape could turn away or run, they lunged at his face, ragged

nails ready to tear him apart.


	4. Stave Four

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the world of Harry****Potter.**

Snape woke and sat straight up as the clock stroke three.

His hands immediately went to his face and, as he felt his skin was still intact and where it should be, his breathing slowed its pace. "Oh, thank goodness," he whispered as he took a good look around him, trying to find the Spirit. He did not need to look far.

The Spirit was dressed in a black cloak, its sleeves fraying away at the edges. The hood was up so Snape could not make out a face, and he did not know if this was a relief or worried him more. There was no light emitting from the tall figure and the only reason Snape could see it at all was because it was standing in front of the window and the street lights cast a hazy glow around it.

"Are you–are you the Spirit of Christmas Future?" Snape asked, and he could hardly make out his own voice as he spoke. The Spirit did not respond, but moved a little to the side and pointed out the window with a single finger the same color as its cloak. At this moment, Snape felt his heart grow cold.

"Do you want me to," he had to pause to breathe, "do you want me to go out the window?"

The Spirit made no sound, no movement. Snape lifted himself off the bed, moved to the window pane and lifted it up so he could fit through. He seated himself on the windowsill and jumped down, landing hard on the ground below. Once again, Snape was filled with an awful fear. This was the first time that night he had felt any pain, and suddenly this Spirit's visit felt much more different than those of the other two.

This Spirit was a patient one. Though its finger still pointed, this time to the cobblestone street, it did not move until Snape did and remained one step behind him at all times. The street was much broader than Snape remembered and there were no cars parked along the sides. A couple of the buildings looked different, too, as if they belonged elsewhere. And soon Snape understood why.

To his left was what was referred to as the Burrow, home of the Weasleys. He had only been there once before, at the first unofficial meeting of the Order. It had a very distinctive look. The only reasoning Snape could think of behind the architecture was that it had started out as a very small two story box of a house. Then, with every child they simply added another level to it. Albeit somewhat recklessly, Snape thought as he peered up at the staggered stories. He turned to look back at the Spirit and saw its finger was now pointed straight toward the Burrow, so Snape walked up to the front door. He was not sure if people could notice him during this Spirit's visit, so he knocked just so he would not be thought a burglar. When no one answered, he opened the door, walked in and was greeted with a rather confusing sight.

Molly Weasley sat alone at the head of a very long table with something shaped like a circle in her hands. As Snape moved closer, he realized it was the famous family clock. Dumbledore had mentioned it quite a few times, but he had never seen it for himself until now. It featured spoons for clock hands and locations such as "Hospital" or "Home" instead of numbers. Snape was struck by the pure genius of it and wondered if Molly had made it herself, before he took a second look at where the spoons were pointing. Eight of the nine spoons rested at "Mortal Peril," and Snape bent to check, then double check, then triple check, if there was any place on the clock for "dead." There was not.

"Spirit," he said, "are these the things that may be or the things that will be?" And when the Spirit didn't answer, he added, "Please." The Spirit still said nothing, but raised its finger once again to point to the door. Snape was not ready to go yet, though. He sat down by Molly and tried to cover her hand resting on the clock face with his, but found his hand would just slip through hers. So, he touched the spoons instead.

He ran his fingers over the faces of each in turn. He had always liked Arthur; never understood him, of course. But Arthur was someone who had nothing and thought he had everything, and even Snape could see there was something admirable in that. He had taught all of the children. Bill was very odd during his years in Hogwarts. He got his ear pierced in his sixth year and always wore his hair in a ponytail and listened to the Wicked Sisters even when they were called the Wizened Siblings. Charlie was fairly normal as Weasleys went. He had been captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team and well-liked amongst the students. He was decent in potions, but refused to make anything with dragon heartstrings as an ingredient. Nothing was wrong with Percy, but he was so uptight it got on Snape's nerves. Nevertheless, he always turned in homework and genuinely helped other students when they needed it, though he would do it in a snobbish way. Fred and George were the biggest troublemakers since James and Sirius and Snape saw too much of the latter two when looking at the twins to like them. But he would sometimes see them play a joke and find himself chuckling about it hours later. Ron was another story altogether. Snape did not like him, could not like him, and would never tell himself otherwise. But countless times, Ron had saved Harry when he could not, and for that Snape was grateful. There was nothing particularly awful about Ginny. She was bright and had a sharp wit, and would not stand for ignorance. She did not crumble after Voldemort possessed her, but lived without feeling sorry for herself.

For one brief moment, Snape allowed himself to mourn alongside Molly Weasley. And as he stood up and looked one last time at the clock, he saw her spoon not pointed toward "Home," but "Lost."

Outside, the frosty air nipped at his bare feet and he crossed his arms and bent his head forward to block the frigid wind. He continued along the street with the Spirit close behind and as they walked farther and farther away from his home, the light diminished until there was but one source. A streetlamp by a small graveyard covered in snow. The Spirit pointed to it.

Snape suddenly felt must be on the last leg of his journey.

He pushed the short wrought iron gate open and stepped inside the graveyard, and as he did so the wind went silent. It did not take long for Snape to find the graves, for he knew what he was looking for. On the opposite end from which he had entered sat two graves side by side. The snow did not cover the names. _James Potter, Lily Potter_, _Harry Potter_.

Harry's gravestone was much smaller than that of the other two and Snape had to kneel before it to brush off the description the snow hid. _July 31, 1980–May 2, 1998_, and below that, _Beloved Son and Friend_. It was etched into the stone by a careful hand and Snape could not help but feel it must have been Molly.

He then knelt before James and Lily's grave. _The Last Enemy that Shall be Destroyed is Death_. It was a lie. Voldemort could never die, not that Harry was now gone. It was a cruel, cruel lie in this cruel, cruel world and Snape was aware that he could have made it a truth.

Maybe he still could.

Snape felt around for his wand and was surprised to find it resting beside him in the snow, where he knew it had not been before. He took it in his hand and conjured two wreaths, both decorated with lilies, and set one on Harry's grave, the other between James' and Lily's names.

He did not move to stand, but instead closed his eyes and tilted his head back to feel the new fallen snow upon his skin.


	5. Stave Five

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the world of Harry Potter.**

**Here's the last one guys! I hope you enjoy it.**

When Severus opened his eyes next, daylight streamed in through the open window.

He awoke of his own accord, but still looked at each corner in turn to see if there was yet another Spirit awaiting him. When he was satisfied the night was over and his journey done, he placed his head back to the pillow and closed his eyes. The satin of the sheets was smooth on his palms and the natural light warmed his face. Yells of merriment and smells of Christmas feasts drifted through the window and suddenly his eyes opened again as an idea sprang to his mind. He ran to the window just as a little boy passed by, dragging his red wagon behind him.

"Hello!" Severus shouted down to him.

The boy looked up. "Hello, sir," he said.

"Tell me, are there any turkeys left down at the corner market?"

"Yes, sir! I just passed there. Just one, though."

"Fantastic! Would you go buy it for me? I will pay you five pounds, maybe ten if you let me borrow that wagon of yours."

"Alright then!" And the boy turned around and ran off down the narrow street with his red wagon bumping along behind him.

Severus left the window to choose his clothes for the special day and then to make some raspberry tea, which he had to admit was growing on him. The boy met him at the door and he paid him ten pounds as promised and wished the boy a merry Christmas as he left.

One hour later, Severus closed the door of Honeydukes behind him, outfitted in an emerald cloak with silver ties, a turkey half as large as he was sitting the wagon behind him, a package wrapped in scarlet and silver in one arm, and wrapped in gold in the other. He felt particularly chipper as he walked down the snowy avenue of Hogsmeade, making his way to the castle on the hill.

The front doors swung open before he even reached them and a very smug looking Dumbledore waited just inside.

"I had a feeling you would be joining us, Severus," he said, and his smugness changed to surprise as Severus leaned in to embrace him.

"How could you possibly have known, Professor?" Severus asked, removing his heavy outer cloak. The one underneath was pure white.

Dumbledore did not answer his question, but asked his own. "Do you need me to carry anything for you?"

"Yes, actually," he said. "Could you carry your rather smartly wrapped Christmas gift?"

Dumbledore took the package. "I'd be more than happy to. But first we should go into the Great Hall. I think you'll find several people eagerly waiting for your arrival so they can eat the delicious food that was prepared."

The Christmas dinner was quite splendid. Everyone thanked Severus for the turkey, and after they had all eaten there was a small exchange of gifts. Dumbledore pretended to wipe tears away when he opened his stockings and McGonagall, who looked much happier than she had in the Present journey, absolutely adored the salted caramel treats Severus had gotten her from Honeydukes. In return, Dumbledore gave him a black leather bound journal and said, "In case anything interesting has happened recently that you would wish to remember." And Severus pretended to be surprised when he opened the quills from McGonagall.

After the feast goers disbanded, Severus walked with Dumbledore to his office and said, "There is a matter, sir, I wish to speak with you about."

Once inside his office, Dumbledore replied, "I know and I am very grateful for your decision. I've already written the letter with my suggestion, ready whenever you wish to tell Harry."

Of course he had, Severus thought. "I think I wish to give him the letter today, Professor. You know, just one more item off the to do list."

Dumbledore smiled. "Of course, Severus," and handed him the letter.

The two visited for a few more minutes before setting off to Hogsmeade so Severus could Apparate to Grimmauld Place. They chatted about nothing and everything and at one point, snow began to fall once more.

"I never tire of it," Dumbledore said, head tilted up and looking at the sky. "Even after all these years, every snowfall still feels like the first."

"It is a wonder," Severus agreed.

The two reached the edge of Hogsmeade and observed the quiet that only comes with snow. "There are many grievances ahead, you know," Dumbledore said, staring out at the small town blanketed in snow. "There will be prices we cannot pay and in the end, we might lose more than we will win. In moments like these, it seems so simple though, doesn't it? We do not fight these battles because we have to. We fight because it is what we choose. There is no turning back now."

Then, turning to look at his friend, he said, "God bless you, Severus."

At those words, something happened. A thought, a memory entered Severus' heart, his mind. He was terrified to put a name to it. For it could bring men to their knees and tear civilizations down to ruins. It could burn the Earth and revive its ashes.

It could make a young boy fall in love as he watched a redheaded, green eyed girl jump off a swing and fly high, high into the air as if she belonged there. Among the birds and the angels.

For the first time in a long, long time, Severus Snape felt _hope_.


End file.
